


The Rules of Hogwarts

by Mistress_Ashley



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crack, Ficlet Collection, Gen, Humor, Rules
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-01-26
Updated: 2012-01-26
Packaged: 2017-10-30 04:04:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 16,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/327536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mistress_Ashley/pseuds/Mistress_Ashley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crack ficlets for the funny list of things NOT to do at Hogwarts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rule 1

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Harry Potter and I make no profit from writing this story.
> 
> I take no credit for this crack filled idea - Blame Hali, because it's all her fault! She's the one who brought this list to my attention.
> 
>  
> 
> **Look to the End Notes if you would like to see the rules before you read.**

**May You Live In Interesting Times**

Harry glanced up from his breakfast as Professor McGonagall passed by him, or rather stopped behind him.

"The Headmaster would like to see you in his office, Mr. Potter." Her expression became pinched as she arched an eyebrow. "I am sure you know the way and can find it on your own. The password is Gumdrops."

"Of course, Professor," Harry said with as innocent a smile as he could manage. It didn't work as he had hoped; the Professor's eyes narrowed even further. "I'll just … go now, then."

McGonagall gave a sharp nod and turned swiftly on her heel.

Harry sighed, eyes turning towards the eggs still left on his plate. His stomach gave a lurch in sympathy, maybe he could sneak down to the kitchens after his meeting with Dumbledore and grab something there.

He made his way out of the Great Hall, shaking off the concern of Ron and Hermione with promises to tell them everything. Why ruin their meal as well? The doors of the Great Hall slammed closed behind him, cutting off the chatter of hundreds of students crammed into one place.

Harry began his journey through the halls, humming lightly under his breath. His steps turned jaunty, an almost skip, as he moved through the halls. His hummed tune becoming slightly louder and he finally realized what he was humming. His lips twitched, and his eyes widened in slight horror before they narrowed, glancing slyly from side to side, even turning around in a circle found no one. They were likely all either still sleeping or were in the Great Hall.

Could he really do this? But the urge was just too great and his steps took an odd two step skip.

"We're off to see the wizard …"

His voice began barely louder than his hum but by the time he reached Dumbledore's office it had risen to the point of belting the lyrics out. Panting slightly, Harry stopped his song, though a slight dance continued as he requested entrance from the stone Griffin. "Gumdrops."

The Griffin leaped to the side, stairs dropping down in its wake. Harry moved to make the last short leg of his journey when there was an explosion of sound behind him–clapping and hollering and, if he wasn't mistaken, a few cat calls and wolf whistles were being thrown in for good measure.

A blush stained his cheeks as he turned around. There, on the opposite side of the wall, was a large scenery portrait that was now filled to near breaking point with painted faces.

Oh Merlin, he'd forgotten about the portraits when he had checked for possible witnesses. A strangled groan escaped his lips as he moved hurriedly up the fully lowered stairs.

The vague thought to burn that portrait came to him; he was sure he could get them all if he was quick enough, but he was also sure that there were ten more witnesses already being gossips. The news of his impromptu performance was probably already reaching the Great Hall right this second. The Pureblood children might not understand but the Muggle raised would be only too happy to explain it to any who would listen.

In other words, Harry was doomed.

"A magnificent rendition if I ever heard one, my boy." Dumbledore might look as composed as ever, fingers steeped before a placid smile as he gazed at Harry over lowered spectacles but the extra twinkle in his eyes let Harry know that the all-knowing, 'Leader of the Light' was laughing at him.

Wonderful, just bloody brilliant. He was cursed, wasn't he? Harry wondered if his parents had ever gotten Chinese and let him have the fortune cookie as a child. He knew just which fortune he had to have gotten. What was that saying again? Oh, right.

_May you live in interesting times._

Did his times really have to be this  _'interesting'_ though?

End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Rule #1:** I will NOT sing "We're off to see The Wizard" when I am sent to the headmasters office.


	2. Rule 2

**For the Greater Good**

Harry stumbled through the halls, stepping onto one of the moving staircases; he was looking for a place to hide. His ability to talk to snakes was revealed in the last dueling practice–stupid Lockhart and now the whole school was out to get him. One of those damn first years had just tripped him from the darkness of a hidden alcove. He never saw it coming and had almost tripped down a flight of stairs.

Finally, the stairs her was on pulled to a stop and Harry made his way down the darkly lit hall. He recognized this hall, he thought, taking a closer look as he walked. Yes, this was the forbidden third floor corridor. With this realization, Harry managed to find that forbidden room easily. Oddly, the door was still locked but a simple  _Alohomora_ had the door creaking open.

The room beyond was darker than even the corridor, not a hit of light but that of the sparsely flickering torches behind Harry. There was a rustle of sound from the room and Harry squinted into that blackness. Where were those glowing orbs coming from? Had Dumbledore started storing magical objects in here?

"Oh, bloody hell," Harry breathed as a three great heads swiveled into the light. The glowing orbs were eyes and those teeth were very big. The giant dog's growl rumbled through the room, echoing off the stone walls and the hot breath ruffled Harry's hair. "Good boy, Fluffy," Harry coaxed as he backed slowly from the room, slamming the door behind him.

He leaned against the wall, eyes wide as he panted in fear. Why was that beast still here? Hadn't Hagrid said something about not being allowed to keep Fluffy? The man had been so broken up about the news, so why was Fluffy still here? Harry thought back to the dog that he had seen. The eyes and teeth were the first things that came to mind but next was the skinny body. Wasn't anyone feeding the thing? That was kind of … sad. Fluffy was a hellhound and it was programmed into them to guard things. It wasn't really Fluffy's fault he was so vicious and had tried to eat them last year. No animal deserved to be starved and forgotten.

Hmm, he could work with this. The school thought him a Dark Lord? Well, he'd give them a Dark Lord … starting with the little shit who tripped him.

With renewed purpose, Harry set off back down the corridor leaving nothing behind but a whistle bouncing off the walls and the echoes of his skipping steps.

**-Line Break-**

It was three days later that he was able to get Harper alone. The little idiot had taken to following him, thinking himself unseen. It was a simple matter of boasting loudly about finding something mind blowing hidden in Hogwarts to catch his attention. He made a big show of being secretive and disappearing randomly.

It had all worked perfectly, Harry thought as he stepped off the moving staircase. A glance from the corner of his eye showed Harper crouched at the bottom of the stairs, eyes wide as he watched Harry intently. Once Harry disappeared around the corner he knew he would have only a minute or two to hide himself away before Harper caught up.

Perfect.

Harry hurried his steps as he rounded the corner. There was an old classroom across from Fluffy's room that he could hide in if he could just get there before Harper caught up. He slipped into the room, robe just ruffling in as the sound of running footsteps caught up to him. The shit was anything but subtle; his pounding footsteps could wake the dead.

Harry held his breath in anticipation as he peaked out the door. This part was mostly chance. Would the boy check the closed door or the one that was left slightly open. He was hoping Harper would try Fluffy's closed door but he was prepared for either. If the boy came towards his door … Harry's fist clenched tightly. Satisfaction would come either way.

Luckily, the tiny first year boy scanned the hall, eyes lingering on the cracked door before they focused solely, narrow eyed, on the closed door. The boy's breathing sped up, teeth nibbling at his lower lip, before his hand reached out. Harry was a bit disappointed that the brat didn't even have his wand out. He thought he would be interrupting a Dark Lord performing some hideous ritual but he was going in unarmed? That solidified Harry's choice; the boy deserved everything coming to him.

Harry waited until the last second before pulling his door open silently. Harper was staring into the darkness distracted as Harry had been by the glowing orbs, but that wouldn't last long so Harry made his move. A hard shove sent the boy tumbling into the room with a cry, knees knocking harshly against the stone floor.

A growl rumbled through the room as Harry slammed the door. Screams rang through the hall, accompanied by the rumbling growl and snapping of teeth before silence fell once more.

Next!

**-Line Break-**

The next one was even easier. This one was a Gryffindor, but he was just as bad about following Harry. The tiny boy seemed to delight in calling out to Harry, following him around with that silly camera draped around his neck.

It was a simple matter of asking the boy to follow him and Colin went along docilely, perfectly content to follow on Harry's heels like one of those yapping, little dogs.

The boy chattered at him the whole way up the stairs and down the corridor. Harry was going to go crazy if he had to listen to one more story told in that high, excited voice and it let him know he was doing the right thing. He couldn't live another six years in Hogwarts with this boy dogging his heels.

Harry gave a firm nod at these thoughts as he opened the door to Fluffy's room. He gave the first year a nod to go before him. "In here."

The poor boy didn't even question the darkness, didn't pause as he trustingly walked to his death.

Harry slammed the door behind him with a relieved sigh.

Yes, this was for the best. It was all for the greater good. He couldn't save the Wizarding world if he was injured or insane. That was why this had to happen.

No one could fault him for this, could they?

End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rule #2: I will NOT feed the first years to Fluffy.


	3. Rule 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had to screw with the timeline a bit to make everything work for this one. Cedric tells Harry how to understand the egg before the Yule Ball … instead of almost a month later.
> 
> This is utter crack and I apologize for how long it got.

**Inter-School, I Mean, -Species Relations**

Harry's mind blanked, and he stared dumbfounded at Professor McGonagall. He had to go to this stupid Ball thing? But not only that, he needed a date? He thought of asking Hermione to go as a friend but was sure that broke some kind of guy friend code with Ron. He could ask Ginny … but did he really want to open that can of worms? Harry shook that thought from his head as he wandered vaguely from McGonagall's office.

His eyes scanned the halls as he walked back to Gryffindor but found no one he really wanted to ask. There was Cho; she was pretty and she enjoyed Quidditch likely as much as he did but, last he heard, she was still dating Cedric. Better to not embarrass himself beyond the telling.

Harry went to bed that night, and for the first time in his life his thoughts were filled with woman. None of them held his attention however.

**-Line Break-**

It was a week before the Ball and Harry still hadn't asked anyone. He and Ron seemed to be the last men without a date. His eyes scanned the Common Room. Hermione had a date; he had heard talk from the Durmstrang students, though he wasn't sure which one Hermione was going with. Neville was taking Ginny–just friends, he said as Ginny eyed Harry with big, come hither eyes. Lavender was going with some seventh year who she kept throwing promising looks toward. The only Gryffindor girl that didn't seem to have a date was Parvati and Harry was staying as far away from that as possible. Parvati was a social climber and was likely to think an invitation to the Ball was a proposal of marriage.

Harry left the castle in disgust, leaving Ron behind to eye Hermione with betrayed and angry eyes. He settled himself in the deep snow around the lake, tugging his cloak closer around him. Why did there have to be a Ball? It was such a stupid thing. Champions shouldn't have to be worrying about getting dates on top of worrying about how to get that egg to make sense. And yet, he seemed to be the only one worrying about both. Krum had date, Cedric was taking Cho–just as Harry thought, and Fleur had managed to enthrall one of the Hogwarts students into asking her. He also didn't see them worrying about their eggs. Krum spent every morning just as he was now–swimming in the Lake, while Cedric didn't seem to be worrying about anything, just enjoying hanging out with his friends, and Fleur showed absolutely nothing; there was no fear or satisfaction coming from her at all.

Harry jumped as a something brushed his ankle. A glance down showed a long tentacle sliding along his ankle. He jerked his foot away at the feel of that slimy appendage rubbing along his bare skin. The tentacle withdrew only slightly, bending in what Harry could imagine was hurt. He sighed sadly; the poor thing was only trying to make him feel better. He reached out his hand, patting the tentacle in apology. The change was immediate. The tentacle wrapped around his wrist, pulling gently but insistently at him getting him moving closer to the lake. There was a small outcropping of large rocks that looked to be floating lightly on the water that Harry soon found himself sitting on, huge tentacle wrapped around his waist to steady him.

It was comfortable here on this rock, a bit cold but so much more quiet than the chaos of Hogwarts. Still, he sighed, this didn't solve the problem of who to ask to the Yule Ball. Frustration welled up inside him. Why was it always him? Why did all these bad things have to happen to him?

His pity party was interrupted by a splash of water to the face. "Hey," he yelled, wiping water from his eyes. Once his eyes weren't stinging anymore, he opened them to find a large, bloody huge was what it was, eye staring unblinking at him. The eye was stern, telling him to stop pitying himself and to think of the problem rationally. Harry shook his head in disbelief. That was silly, the giant squid was an animal, it couldn't possibly have stern thoughts like he was imagining. The most anyone had ever seen the squid do was wave its tentacles through the air … except, hadn't the squid been rumored to have rescued Dennis Creevey after he fell into the water his first year? Hadn't the squid just comforted him?

Harry narrowed his eyes, staring deeply into that bulbous eye. "You're smarter than we all think, aren't you?"

The eye stared placidly back as him but the tentacle around his waist tightened briefly. Was that an admission or just a reaction to someone speaking to it? Harry wasn't sure but all the same he found himself pouring out the whole story, from being forcibly entered into the Triwizard Tournament to the Yule Ball. "And McGonagall said the Champions all have to have dates because they start the Ball or something. I don't even know how to dance," he confided sadly.

He was stunned to suddenly find himself in a hidden corner of the lake's edge. His stomach was twinging slightly and let him know that the tentacle still wrapped around his waist had picked him up and set him down a long way from where he had just been. "What was that for," Harry demanded as he rubbed around the tentacle's grip.

The tentacle shoved him lightly at his question before another popped out of the water. When the tentacle wrapped around him this time, it lay lightly around his neck, the other grasped his hand. There was a sense of urging but Harry wasn't sure what the creature wanted. The tentacles slumped before two more rose from the water. One wrapped around his other wrist, pulling him forward and the other wrapped Harry's arm around the backs of the first two tentacles–much like you would wrap an arm around a girl's waist when you danced.

Oh bloody buggering fuck, the  _giant squid_ knew how to dance? Didn't that just make it all the more pathetic that he had no clue? A blush stained his cheeks and he dropped his head. One of the free tentacles clipped him under the chin, pushing his head back up and stroking his cheek once before it pulled back. They wrapped around his ankles and began urging his feet to move in certain ways. It was awkward and embarrassing but finally Harry could get his feet moving in the correct directions himself.

Before long, the young boy and the giant squid were 'dancing' like pros. Harry found himself laughing as the tentacles twirled and dipped him. Someone had to be dipped and the squid was just too large for Harry to manage that, so he made no comment about playing the girl.

The sun sank behind the trees, darkening the small clearing to almost pitch-black and let Harry know just how late it was getting. He pulled back from the grasping tentacles, suckers bared in an attempt to pull him back, with a sigh. "I've got to get back inside. I had fun though. It's just too bad I couldn't take you as my date; we'd have a grand time, I'm sure," Harry said wistfully before he started the trek back to the brightly lit castle.

He never saw the tentacles hitting the surface angrily, sending large waves of icy water spraying in all directions.

Poor Viktor Krum almost drowned that day.

**-Line Break-**

Harry gave up on finding a date. Sure, McGonagall would be pissed but what could she possibly do to him if he didn't show up with a date? There wouldn't be time to send him to find one, Harry thought with satisfaction.

He spent all his time after that decision in the library looking for clues on the egg. Harry was just thankful that he had helped Cedric with the dragon task … and it was probably best that he hadn't asked Cho to the Ball. That probably would have made Cedric wait until the last minute to explain the egg to him–jealousy was a horrible thing.

Now, all he needed to do was find a way to breath under water. He wasn't sure what he would sorely miss, but it wouldn't really matter if he drowned before he could reach it–hence his reason for spending so much time in the library. He poured over books that had anything, however vague, about water. He really didn't want to know that water nymphs were little nymphomaniacs or that sirens lured sailors to them only to have sex with them, helping the human breath under water … until climax when they let them breath in water. Harry shuddered in disgust. Neither of those helped  _him_  breath under water though.

One book though caught his attention. An odd little wizard had created a 'water bubble' spell. The wizard had become obsessed with a mermaid that lived in a local watering hole and had created the spell to hold her captive. It let her live in the water and yet float around behind the wizard. The things it said the wizard could do to her through the bubble were appropriately horrible but it  _did_  give Harry an idea. He just hoped it wasn't too late-the Ball was tomorrow night.

**-Line Break-**

That night, Harry threw on his Invisibility Cloak and made his way back to the hidden clearing. He leaned over the water's edge. "Hey," Harry whispered, splashing at the surface. It took a minute but a tentacle rose from the water, the eye following close after. Harry smiled at the sight-the eye looked sleepy. A tentacle rose to wipe at the eye making the creature look much like a child fisting their eyes after being woken.

"I'm sorry to wake you," Harry said.

A tentacle waved through the air dismissively.

Harry took a deep breath. Could he really do this? It wasn't as hard as working up the courage to ask one of the Hogwarts girls-or Merlin forbid, one of the Beauxbatons' girls. But could he really walk in there tomorrow … tonight with a giant squid on his arm? "How would you like to go to the Ball with me?" Well, guess that answered that question.

Bubbles rose from the water, a burbling sound rising with them. Was that a girlish squeal? Harry pushed that thought away, unwilling to think of the creature as anything but an 'it'. It made this whole situation easier somehow.

"I just hope the spell I found works; it was made to contain a mermaid, not something as large as you. The water level is certainly going to drop tomorrow," Harry mused before shrugging,  _oh well_. "I better get back in there before a patrol comes around, but I'll pick you here tomorrow, just before 8pm."

The burbling sound came again and, once again, Harry ignored it as he crept back into Hogwarts.

**-Line Break-**

That night, Harry walked over the grounds of Hogwarts in the dress robes Mrs. Weasley had bought for him. They brought out the brightness of his green eyes, the paleness of his skin, and the dark contrast of his messy hair. He had gotten more than one sigh from the Gryffindor girls on his way out.

He had ten, maybe fifteen, minutes to get the giant squid encased in the water bubble and floated to the Great Hall before Professor McGonagall blew her top. Right, no pressure. Why hadn't he gotten dressed earlier? Why hadn't he been quicker in getting to the lake?

Tentacles waved lazily through the air above the water when Harry made it to the lake's edge. "All right, I'm going to need you to come out as far as you can," Harry stated, rolling his wand between his fingers nervously. The giant, pointed head … or body, Harry wasn't quite sure on that, rose out of the water. The squid floated on its back atop the water, waiting trustingly for Harry to perform his spell. With a deep breath, Harry began. His wand made a large circle around the squid before he jabbed forward. " _Aguabolha_ ," he stated clearly. It wasn't a very original spell, loosely translating to water bubble. The water bubble's incantation was the same as its name–only in another language.

Water gathered around the squid and Harry's brow furrowed in concentration. The spell was harder than he had expected. The power slipped through his fingers and water washed in waves over the lake's bank. "Damn it."

The squid gave a low murmur urging him to try again.

Harry gathered his concentration, pushing thoughts of everything except this spell from his mind. He focused solely on creating a ball of water around the giant squid. Holding this picture at the forefront of his mind, he cast the spell once again. With his eyes closed and his focus on the spell, Harry didn't see the bubble form around the squid, didn't notice the bubble float above the surface of the lake, or see it bob to his side. He gave a start as a tentacle tapped his shoulder.

"It worked," Harry breathed. His breath came in light pants. This spell had been made for something human sized so had taken a bit more power to get it to work. Still, what mattered was that it was working. "We should get in there before anyone starts looking."

Bubbles formed in the water around the tentacles as a low murmur rose from the water. That was just weird. The squid was upside down to Harry's thinking, standing on its head all the time.

The trek back over the grounds was made quickly with Harry pushing himself to walk at a fast clip. The bubble bobbed lightly along behind him, just as it was supposed to do. They made their way unseen through the Entrance Hall. Harry took this to mean that everyone but the champions were inside the Great Hall. This likely meant that Professor McGonagall was silently steaming over his lack of presence.

Turning a corner proved his thought correct. McGonagall was looking quiet fearsome in her tartan dress robes with her lips pursed to thin lines and her nostrils flaring angrily. She stormed across the stone floor on a cloud of her own fury with her sensible heels click, clacking as if in emphasis.

"Where have you been, Mr. Potter?" Her voice was low and controlled, letting him know that she was beyond angry–heading straight into burning fury.

Even in the face of her fury, Harry couldn't help himself. "I was picking up my date, Professor."

McGonagall raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "Oh, and where is she?"

Harry stepped further around the corner, the watery bubble floating along behind him. The giant squid really was giant. The ceilings of Hogwarts were amazingly high and yet the room they stood in looked smaller suddenly.

The muscles in the Professor's jaw and left eye twitched furiously. "This is not a joke, Potter. Champions are required to start the Ball with a dance."

A tentacle slipped around Harry's shoulders and pulled him gently backwards. It was a protective gesture and Harry appreciated the effort even though his back was starting to freeze from the water's temperature. Thankfully, the protective bubble kept him from getting wet on top of cold. "We can dance, Professor, just … trust me."

"If there was more time I would beg you to reconsider but they are waiting for us already. Merlin forbid, but this will make us the laughing stock of the entire Tournament." The last was mumbled but Harry heard it all the same and by the tightening of the tentacle around him the squid heard it too. McGonagall turned away with a huff and a roll of her eyes and began demanding that the champions, plus dates, line up.

There was a silent agreement between Harry and the creature behind him. They would give those within the Hall the best possible dance. They would be too stunned to laugh.

They were the last to walk in, or rather Harry walked and the squid floated behind him, and they stunned the Hall. Silence met their entry and Harry saw the Headmaster's eyes widen before he managed to smooth his face. It was Snape that made this whole thing worth it; the man gave up dignity and dropped his face onto the table with a loud thud.

The Ball turned out to be more fun than Harry thought it would be, dancing and laughing with his friends and the squid, but it was the giant red mark on Snape's forehead that made it all worth while.

**The End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Rule #3:** The Giant Squid is NOT an appropriate date to The Yule Ball.
> 
> After writing this, I can't believe I just wrote over 2k words about Harry and the giant squid … and actually made it kind of sweet. What the heck is wrong with me?


	4. Rule 4

**I Am Your Father**

Harry sighs as he walks up the stairs. Pretend he doesn't exist? What a stupid thing to tell him to do. Wouldn't the Dursleys get more sympathy if whoever was coming saw what caring and compassionate individuals Vernon and Petunia are, having taken in an orphaned child? Harry had always known they weren't the brightest crayon in the bunch but were they really that dim?

He enters his room, turning to close the door behind him. Turning around with nothing but the thought of throwing himself on the bed in his mind, he was horrified to see an ugly little creature already seated there. So, this was the thing that was watching him this morning.

The sounds, Dudley's piggy little voice asking to take the Mason's coats, from downstairs reminded him of where he was and what he was supposed to be doing. The creature hopped off the bed, making a near silent thud, before it bowed lowly to him.

Harry narrowed his eyes; if he squinted, the little creature reminded him of someone. As the thing unbent, Harry got a good look at it and his eyes widened in realization. "Oh my god! You're Yoda! I knew I wasn't a wizard. You've come to teach me about the Force, haven't you? Will I be your Padawan learner?" He asked very quickly, not even pausing for breath. Another thought sprang into being, his eyes widening further, though this time they filled with horror. His breath came in fits and gasps. "You've come to tell me about some great prophecy that says I need to defeat a  _great evil_. It's Voldemort, isn't it? My father is Voldemort and it's my duty to defeat him; you've come to train me on how to do it, haven't you? To be trained by Yoda, it will be an honor," Harry nodded solemnly as he stared at Yoda with stars in his eyes.

Dobby backed away slowly, golf ball size eyes even wider in his silent panic. His mother always told him that if he encountered a crazy wizard to just nod and back away slowly–once at a safe distance, he was to disapparate immediately.

So, Dobby did just that, leaving a pouting Harry Potter behind.

END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rule 4: Dobby is NOT Yoda in disguise.


	6. Rule 6

**The Future is Disturbing**

Harry snickered as he traveled the well remembered path to Divination. Ron was keeping his distance while sending his friend fearful glances every time the green eyed boy burst into laughter. It was just too funny not to laugh, Harry thought.

They climbed the ladder and entered the heavily perfumed air, but even that couldn't bring Harry's good mood down.

"I see you are all here, as I knew you would be." The misty voice came from behind a mass of shawls that moved to reveal the bug-eyed stare of Professor Trelawney.

"A-Actually Professor," glances were exchanged as they all turned to look at the empty desk in the back, though the speaker seemed unable to go on.

It didn't very much matter as Trelawney appeared not to be paying a bit of attention as she gathered up a stack of papers ad began passing them out. "The spirit world tells me there shall be a pop quiz within the next month on all you have learned within my class, and it is my wish that you shall be prepared. You may use any method to answer the questions laid out for you. Crystal balls are by the window sill, dice and stones on my desk, star charts are hung around the room should you need them, and tea leaves and cups are to your left." Neville's eyes grew wider with each method before they slipped to the left. "Deary, remember, the  _blue_  cups." Neville whimpered, sliding further down his seat.

Harry snickered once more, glancing over his list of questions. Trelawney had been very careful to give him one from the bottom of the pile. A glance at Ron's showed fairly simple questions about weather, food, and classes.  _Will it rain over Hogwarts tomorrow? Will there be roast beef for dinner tonight? Will we learn to disapparate next year?_

Harry's question were vastly different and some were fairly gruesome.  _Will I meet the Grim before the end of term? Will I become an Auror? If yes, will I die a horrible death on a mission? Will Hagrid be gored to death by one of his beasts? Will Headmaster Dumbledore choke on one of his famous sweets? Will I trip and break my neck on the stairs?_  They all carried the theme of death and dismemberment.

Harry narrowed his eyes before giving a pleased nod. A moment of digging through his bag, hidden behind the frantic students all trying to decide which method of divination to use, and Harry grasped the large black ball tightly in his hand.

The first question then. He held the ball tightly between both hands and closed his eyes in concentration.  _"Will I meet the Grim before the end of term?"_  An image of Padfoot in all his Grim like glory rose up in his mind as he shook the ball. Flipping it over after a healthy shake, he peered into the small round window as the message rose from its depths.

**Yes—definitely**

Harry grinned as he jotted the message down.

Again, Harry held the ball tightly and asked the next question. "Will I be an Auror?" He saw himself standing proudly in Auror robes, wand held out with a fierce look upon his face.

**Without a doubt**

Hmm, well that was something. Better ask the next question then. "Will I die a horrible death on a mission?" The question was tentative. He wasn't really sure he wanted to know that answer. Being an Auror was a dangerous job, just look at Moody; there was a very good chance he  _would_  die a horrible death on a mission.

**Reply hazy, try again**

Right, he really didn't want to know. Harry jotted down an uncertain answer before continuing to the next question. "Will Hagrid be gored to death by one of his beasts?" That question was vaguely insulting, but Trelawney was swooping nearby, and he really didn't want her drawing everyone's attention to him if he didn't ask her questions correctly.

**Better not tell you now**

Ouch.  _Well_ , a dark part of Harry's mind piped up,  _Hagrid will never give up his beasts, so it's very likely that he will be gored to death by one of them. Likely not tomorrow or even a few years from now but when he's too old to handle them safely one of them will likely get the better of him. _Was it a bad thing that Harry was comforted by that voice?

"Will Headmaster Dumbledore choke on one of his sweets?" It came to mind that this question said nothing about choking to death. Dumbledore was sure to choke on one of his sweets many times, but that didn't mean it would lead to his death.

**Most likely**

"Will I trip and break my neck on the stairs?"

**Very doubtful**

On and on it went, Harry asking questions, giving the ball a good shake, and jotting down the answers—leaving off such things as try again or ask again, of course. This was so much better than racking his brain for horribly gruesome answers. It was actually kind of fun watching the rest of his classmates agonize over their tea leaves or watching Seamus's head droop lower and lower over his crystal ball before it slipped off his hand and slammed face first into the unforgiving crystal with a crack.

"Time is up, my darlings. I hope the spirits did not divulge anything too hard to bear, but those with the inner sight must learn to distance themselves from such feelings. Best to learn that now." Harry was sure her eyes sparkled with glee at the thought of others misfortune.

Their papers were collected and they waited for their dismissal as Trelawney scanned over their questions. Her hand shook as she picked up one; Harry was sure this was the one she had been searching for through the entire stack for—his.

Watery eyes nearly hidden behind the thickness of her glasses landed on Harry. "My dear, such strength you have to accept the tragedies the spirits have laid before you." Her chest shook with excited breaths. "I believe, with a bit of work, you could be a great seer. Maybe even set to take over my position when the spirits call me home."

Harry's first thought was to laugh, but a vision swam up from the depths of his mind. It showed him, older with a scar running the length of his cheek and wearing old Auror robes, presiding over the Divination class. All his students eagerly shaking large black balls with an 8 clearly facing him as they happily discussed their futures with their neighbors.

It wasn't such a bad future, Harry decided with a grin as he hefted his heavy bag over his shoulder and made his way back into the hustle and bustle of the castle.

Not a bad future at all.

**End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Rule 6:** I will NOT bring a Magic 8-Ball to Divinations Class


	8. Rule 8

**Do Werewolves Eat Homework?**

Harry whimpered silently as he entered the Defense classroom. This could  _not_  be happening. He worked so hard on this essay (four feet of parchment), and it was all going to be for nothing.

"Good morning, class," Professor Lupin smiled wearily from the front of the room.

"Good morning, Professor Lupin," the class chorused cheerfully. Lupin was their favorite DADA teacher after all, the best they'd had yet.

"I'm sorry I was ill for your last class, but I'm very glad to see all of you so eager to continue now that I'm back. You had a few extra days to complete the assignment I gave you, so I hope you all have it completed?" His voice lilted questioningly as he raised an eyebrow. "Ms. Patil, if you could go around and collect them?"

Panic swirled in Harry's chest as Parvati stop at their table and collected Ron and Hermione's work. She gave a huff when shook his head, swirling her braids behind her as she moved to the next table.

"Stay after class, Harry," Lupin commanded quietly. Harry was grateful that the man didn't draw anymore attention to him. "Now, open your books to page 256. Today we'll focus on Fwoopers."

Harry's panic had him squirming in his seat all through the tales of people driven mad when the Silencing Charm on their pet Fwoopers failed or were accidentally removed.

**)()(**

The class cleared out quickly, Ron sending him sympathetic looks while Hermione hissed at him the whole way out the door.

Lupin was never going to believe him. The man was going to think he was taking the piss with him, maybe even making fun of him in a malicious sort of way.

Professor Lupin dragged his chair around his desk and settled into the seat facing Harry with a sigh. There was such disappointment contained in that sigh that it made Harry cringe. "Want to tell me why you didn't hand in your homework, Harry? I know you would have had no trouble with the essay."

Harry shifted in his seat, unable to meet Lupin's eyes. "See, the thing is, I was revising it yesterday out by the lake with Ron and Hermione, making sure I didn't miss anything important. Except, Hagrid called us over and I left my bag with my DADA book and my homework lying on top. It was getting dark by the time we were done talking to Hagrid and he sent us inside. I forgot to grab it on the way back," Harry tried to justify.

This got him a raised eyebrow as Lupin's eyes flicked to his bag lying at his feet. "Your bag seems perfectly safe and there was no rain last night to ruin your assignment."

"Yeah, I kind of wish there had been."

"Oh, and why is that?"

Harry took a deep breath and blurted it out. "A werewolf ate my homework." The green eyed boy hated how Lupin's eyes dimmed and his face grew cold.

"That's not funny, Harry."

"I know it's not," Harry cried, "but it's true." He grabbed his bag from the floor, upending the contents onto his desk. A moment of digging through the mess of books, parchment, and quills brought a book to the top.

Harry tossed the book to Lupin whose eyes widened at the ripped and tattered state of the thing.

"You ate my homework and used my Defense book as a chew toy!"

**End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rule 8: My homework was NOT eaten by a werewolf. Especially when my teacher is Professor Lupin.


	9. Rule 9

**Silly Little Firsties**

Harry watched Hermione lead the first years into the common room from his seat before the fire. Given the harassed look on Ron's face, Hermione had likely taken them the longer, yet more easily remembered path. A few of them were yawning, leaning on their neighbor's shoulder as their heads drooped. It was just as likely that Hermione took them on a detailed tour, boring them with facts about Hogwarts that were sure to come from _Hogwarts: A History_.

"Go on up to bed. I got them," Harry said, standing from his comfy seat. He pasted on a friendly smile at their gaping looks. "Come on over here guys." He jerked his head at Hermione, Ron having taken the escape immediately. "Go on, Hermione; I'm not going to corrupt them in the few minutes it takes to give them a few pointers—like never trust anything that comes from Fred and George. I'll have them off to bed before you know it." He gave her his patented 'don't you trust me' look. It got him a skeptical look but all the same Hermione took the stairs up to the girl's dorm.

"Right, kiddies, I wasn't joking about taking sweets from Fred and George. Better yet, don't take sweets from anyone; get what you want in the Great Hall at breakfast, lunch, or dinner. Maybe in your second year I'll tell you how to get to the kitchens. Next, beware of Peeves. He's the local poltergeist and the only one who can control him is the Slytherin ghost. I'm sure you saw him at the feast?" There was a round of wide eyed nods and a few shivers from the ones who were unlucky enough to have already met Peeves. "Never try pleading with Peeves; he's likely to turn it around on you. Also, never try to order Peeves around, and never, ever try to hit Peeves. He's only solid when he wants to be and he'll not take a hit lying down. He can be a malicious little bugger. Right, what else is there?" Harry wracked his brain for all the little things about Hogwarts. "Don't tell secrets in the halls; the portraits are gossip mongers and your secret will be all over the school before long. Last …" Harry paused. The first years watched him with wide-eyed awe. Such trusting, annoying little buggers. Could he really do this? Hermione was sure to kill him when she found out, and she  _would_  find out, but ...

Yeah, he really could.

"I don't know if I should tell you. It's a real honor if you do, but no one ever has before. And believe me, we tried."

They jabbered excitedly, all talking over each other as they tried to convince him to tell them. Harry let them hang for a moment before he leaned forward eagerly. He made a large show of glancing around, making sure no one was eavesdropping.

"Right, you saw the huge tree out on the grounds, didn't you? Well, since you guys can't do any of the extra classes or play Quidditch until next year—you know, any of that  _fun stuff_ , it's become something every first year class does. They've turned it into a competition between houses. It's an honor for your house because if you win Gryffindor gets 500 points; that's like an automatic win for the House Cup," Harry told them excitedly. "What you have to remember is that no one has done it before. Everyone is pretty bitter about it and are going to be out to see you fail for sure."

He watched their eager faces as they leaned forward.

"What do we have to do?" A tiny red haired girl asked with wide eyes and a hushed voice.

"Well," Harry hesitated once more to drag out the suspense, "I really shouldn't be telling you this. Your names will go down in the history books if you manage this. Who wouldn't want to be in the history books?" Harry shrugged. "But, I'm already there, so I guess I can help you along. Like I said, that tree out on the grounds is a very special tree. It moves on its own. There's a way to stop that; you just have to find it. Finding a way to stop it is only the first step though. The real challenge is the building. To win … you need to build a treehouse within that tree. It has to be complete to win, so you can't ever let the tree become active or it will destroy your hard work and likely end with most of you in the hospital wing. You see, the tree doesn't take well to people climbing on it." Why did he have to be so soft? He could have just let them find out on their own. Harry jumped from his seat with a clap of his hands that had the first years giving startled gasps. "Well, off to bed with you or Hermione will skin me alive." He ushered the tiny little students out of the room. "Remember, tell no one, not even the prefects or the teachers. They'll just try to stop you from winning."

He got a round of nods and eager grins as the first years hurried from the room, talking excitedly amongst themselves. Apparently the curly haired blond boy with the knobby elbows and knees had spent the past summer building a treehouse with his father and was telling any who would listen that he knew everything there was to know about the building process. There was very little speculation on how to stop the tree.

Good. Harry went to bed with a smirk and a song in his heart. Silly little firsties.

**)()(**

Within the first week almost all the Gryffindor first years were admitted to the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey was at a loss to explain why the first years had suddenly gotten it into their heads to build a treehouse in the Whomping Willow and none of them would speak up. All they would say when asked was that they wanted to win. Win what, she couldn't tell the demanding Headmaster or the Gryffindor's furious Head of House.

Detentions didn't dissuade them and threats of expulsion only made them work harder. It was with a mad sort of awe that the teachers watched the students running and jumping around the tree, poking and prodding at the trunk before a lucky, nimble black haired girl managed to hit the knot that caused the tree to shudder to a stop.

Construction began shortly after, with the first years learning quickly that the tree didn't stay stopped for long. The destruction of all their hard work didn't seem to phase them as they scurried like worker ants about the stilled tree.

Thus came about the construction of the very first Whomping Willow treehouse … not that it lasted long after completion. It was with great pride that Harry convinced Ron to award the first years 500 points … not that they lasted long either since Hermione took them away for the sheer recklessness of the entire situation, lecturing Harry the entire time with pursed lips and narrowed eyes.

**End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rule 9: I will NOT tell the first years to make a treehouse in the Whomping Willow


	10. Rule 10

**Bludgers of Doom**

The door to the third year dorm slammed open startling the boys curled snug in their beds awake. There was a second thud as Neville jerked awake and tumbled from the bed to the hard floor below.

Harry sat bolt upright, fumbling for his wand with one hand as he rubbed his eyes with the other.

"Wha—," Ron mumbled from beneath the scarlet covers.

Framed in the door, wild eyed and disheveled was Oliver Wood. He was wearing his Quidditch robes and Harry wondered briefly if he was forgetting an early morning, before game workout, but he couldn't remember anything fogged with sleep as his mind still was.

"Oliver?" Yeah, that sounded sophisticated.

"They called the game off," Oliver growled. It was like being struck with lightening or maybe that was real lightening outside the window, sleep falling away like being dunked in water. His mind was clear and working itself into a storm of activity. Oliver was ranting, words barely intelligible. "McGonagall said there was nothing she could do … how could they lose them … Slytherins!" The last was growled so fiercely and Oliver's face twisted with madness. The fourth year boys watched the older boy warily before he managed to rein in his temper.

"Oliver, what happened?" Harry demanded. That rant had given him very little information.

"Someone stole the Bludgers, not just tampered with them but full out  _stole_  them! It was the Slytherins; it has to be! They don't want to play us in this weather, and Dumbledore won't listen to Malfoy's complaints that his arm is still bothering him. He said he trusts Madam Pomfrey's wand work, and if he's not at St. Mungo's he must be fine. Good man, Dumbledore—gave them two choices, forfeit or find another Seeker. It seems they've found a new way out of playing." Oliver slumped in the doorway with a resigned sigh. This was his last chance to win the Quidditch Cup Harry knew and this would be a real blow. Harry knew he could win against Malfoy in any weather, but Wood thought the rain would give them a much needed advantage against the Slytherin team's new brooms.

"Don't they have backup equipment?" Dean asked.

Oliver slumped even more if that were possible. "No, it's tradition according to McGonagall, and when I asked why they couldn't just apparate or Floo to Diagon Alley and pick up a set of Bludgers she shot me down—told me there are spells and tests and things that would need to be done before they'd allow them on the field. By the time they do all those tests it would be time for the next game."

The fourth years exchanged forlorn glances, now wide awake at the thought of the Slytherins getting one over on them.

Harry's mind was working overtime however. His eyes narrowed as his thoughts swirled. Where could the Slytherins possibly hide two Bludgers? It wasn't like they wouldn't smash themselves out of a suit of armor and go on a rampage if someone was stupid enough to stash them there. There were many unused classrooms in the dungeons, but the teachers were sure to have run a standard search and Bludgers weren't exactly quiet. The Slytherin common room was the most likely place, probably stashed in a trunk. Harry could just see a rattling trunk in pride of place as the Slytherins sat smugly around it sure in their superiority as Snape barely glanced at the bouncing trunk before leaving to inform Dumbledore that he had no luck finding them. But Harry had an idea.

"Oliver, get the team—no, get  _everyone_ to the field. There's going to be a game today if it's the last thing I do," Harry vowed.

It took no more convincing for Oliver to straighten and begin ordering the others to get dressed, ushering them from the room with demands to tell everyone they met on their way to the pitch.

**)()(**

Harry dragged on his robes and made his way down the hall towards the dungeons. He wasn't heading to where he knew the Slytherin common room was though.

A few minutes of walking led him to an old and dusty painting. A tickle and a giggle had a doorknob forming under his hand. Pushing it open revealed an expansive kitchen that didn't look so large with so many tiny beings scurrying around the room.

Harry found himself nearly bowled over as one of the tiny beings darted from the crowd and attached itself to his knees.

"Harry Potter, sir! You's come to see Dobby?" Eyes the size of golf balls shined up at him with near obsession.

Harry hesitated for a moment before answering. "Yeah, yeah, I did come to see you, Dobby. I have a favor to ask you … and maybe Winky, too?" He gave his voice a questioning lilt knowing full well what effect that would have on Dobby. Was he a horrid person for manipulating Dobby? Really, he was sure all he needed to do was ask and Dobby would jump at the chance.

The eyes got wider if that were possible and Dobby nearly vibrated in place in his eagerness to please. "Dobby will do anything for Harry Potter sir."

Harry meandered through the working house elves to the table in the far corner. Once seated, Harry turned to the hovering Dobby. "You heard about the stolen Bludgers, didn't you?" At Dobby's slow nod Harry continued. "Well, the professors can't find them and there's no use going to Diagon Alley to buy more because they'd still need to be tested."

"What does Harry Potter sir wish of Dobby?"

"What if we don't use Bludgers? What if we use something else? You and Winky can disguise yourselves as the Bludgers; I can 'find' you, and we can play. None of the teachers will ever have to know, but I'll warn the Gryffindor team and you can avoid the Slytherin Beaters. I know Winky hates heights so if you know another elf that would be willing …," Harry trailed off. This was such a stupid idea, and there was no way Dobby would agree.

"Winky is a good elf; Winky will dos hers job!" A squeaky, sniveling voice piped up from behind Harry and almost sent him out of his seat. His heart beat against his ribs harshly as he turned around. Winky's form wavered and nearly tipped over sideways. Her clothes looked as if they had recently been cleaned but also appeared as if they had been tugged on by someone else—probably when she was passed out from too much butterbeer. She was a pathetic sight but welcome right this second.

"You'll do it, Winky?"

Winky trembled, long fingers reaching up to cover her eyes as she nodded hard.

"Dobby?"

There was no answer from Dobby except excited bouncing, the socks covering his ears bouncing along with him.

"Right," Harry breathed. "You do know how to disguise yourselves as Bludgers, right?" He certainly hoped so because he didn't know the transfiguration spell for such a thing. He needn't have worried though because the elves were nodding as they pulled him from the room.

**)()(**

Harry grasped the rattling trunk with both hands as he stumbled out onto the pitch. The stands were nearly full having no flashes of green or silver among them.

"What is the meaning of this, Potter?" McGonagall's lips were pursed so far that they seemed nonexistent. She stomped off the pitch and bore down on him like a dragon protecting its eggs.

"I found the Bludgers, Professor." Harry rattled the already shaking trunk before he dropped it to the ground.

The Gryffindor Head of House narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "And how is it that you found the Bludgers when the professors and the Headmaster himself have been scouring the castle for them all morning?"

Harry shrugged innocently. "I asked the house elves."

Her nostrils flared, but there was nothing she could do besides send one of the spectators to inform Professor Snape that the game was back on.

It wasn't fifteen minutes before the Slytherin Quidditch team stormed onto the pitch. Their faces pulled into snarls as they gazed at the shaking trunk. Harry smirked at them from behind McGonagall's back because they all knew the Bludgers in the trunk weren't the stolen Bludgers, but there was nothing the Slytherins could say without implicating themselves in the theft.

Harry backed off from the arguing Professors McGonagall and Snape and quietly informed his fellow teammates of the true identity of the Bludgers. Fred and George looked beyond gleeful and Harry made it a point to ask them politely not to hit Dobby and Winky too hard.

The game started normally enough, the players rising into the air with a stern warning from Madam Hooch for a clean game. Harry snorted,  _yeah right_! That was never going to happen.

Harry quickly noticed something odd as a jet black ball went whizzing past his ear—it was practically quivering, shaking noticeably in fright. Harry could swear he caught a glimpse of wide white eyes before they were frosted over with black … though that black looked awfully like long, spindly fingers. He was quick to shake it off as he saw a flash of gold. It turned out not to be the Snitch and the ball was lost to the game below.

Harry's eyes scanned the pitch but he could help them from drifting to game play. A ball came hurtling towards the two Seekers suspended in the air.

"Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"

Harry's eyes popped wide as he watched a pitch black Dobby hurtle through the air. His wide eyes were closed but a huge smile stretched his face and his colorfully socked feet arched behind him. The flying elf jerked to the side and cannoned toward where Malfoy was gripping his broom in fear, pale face even paler.

Harry found himself unable to keep the grin from his face, laughing as Malfoy dived toward the ground with a shriek. It was all the better when Harry caught sight of the Snitch hovering only feet away from where Malfoy had been. It was a simple matter of drifting closer and the Snitch practically flew into his hand.

It wasn't the cheers that greeted him when he reached the ground that had him grinning but Malfoy's still heard shrieks as the Dobby Bludger chased him around the pitch. The icing on the win however was a combination of two things—the first was Snape chasing after Malfoy, wand raised as he tried to target a quickly moving Dobby; the second sight was even sweeter, Dumbledore sat calmly in the stands in brightly colored robes and his wizards hat perched jauntily on his head with the pinky of one hand jammed into his ear twisting back and forth in an attempt to clean out suddenly formed earwax.

If Harry wasn't mistaken Dumbledore's lips trembled as Snape's cries of rage joined Malfoy's shrieks of fear, but he had to be mistaken, right?

**End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rule 10: House Elves are NOT suitable replacements for Bludgers.


	11. Rule 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry for this one. It got away from me and then it just wouldn't end! After 8 pages, I'm kind of sick of it. I'm hoping it's better to read than it was to write.
> 
>  **Timeline:** No Triwizard, unless you want there to be. It was a perfectly normal Triwizard if there was however. No Voldemort, no Death Eaters, and no Cedric dying. Right, a perfectly normal magical tournament.
> 
>  **WARNINGS:** This has drug use (marijuana) and the enjoyment of said drug use; if that offends you please go no further. If you read it and flame me, I'll feed you to the starving Fluffy! (Harry's run out of first years, and Fluffy's still mega hungry. I'm sure you'd make a better meal than tiny first years!)

**Smoke Up**

Harry Potter wrinkled his nose, a grimace on his face as he reached out with one hand and grasped the sock between two fingers. He gagged as his fingers connected with something wet. His mind shied away from what it might possibly be and he tossed it quickly into the hamper.

What was Harry doing you might ask that he doesn't know what is on a simple sock? Why following the orders of his Aunt Petunia, of course, and cleaning Dudley's room for him while he was visiting with Piers Polkiss. Visiting, right, Harry thought, more like terrorizing the neighborhood while I pick up his dirty laundry.

Harry moved through the room, tossing any clothes laying out into the hamper. There was no way he was going to sniff them to see if they were dirty. He reached out with two fingers again (they were going to need undiluted bleach to ever feel clean again) and grasped a pair of pants. It was with disgust that he felt the crinkle of plastic wrap. He was going to have to check the pocket. Aunt Petunia would have his head if he let her put what might be a candy bar or other treat into her precious washer. It was top of the line, nothing but the best for her family, she would whisper to the neighbors every time they simpered about her dresses.

A shudder worked its way up his spine, and whimpering slightly, Harry pulled the denims closer and stuck his fingers down into the pocket. Imagine his surprise when what he pulled out wasn't a candy bar or any other sweet treat but a sandwich baggy filled with some kind of dried, green plant. A bit of investigating found a bit of the dried plant in a cigarette wrapping. A smirk displaced the grimace. Oh, this was something that would get Dudley in  _big_  trouble! The rants Uncle Vernon would get on with about potheads and the pride Aunt Petunia bandied about with the neighbors of how her sweet Dudders hadn't given into peer pressure. Such pride they showed that Dudley was drug free.

Still, there was a certain amount of curiosity within Harry. How many people smoked this stuff? There had to be something wonderful about it, and anything that sent his relatives into fits was always a good thing in his book. Harry debated for several moments before he carefully opened the baggy and removed the cigarette. He tiptoed back to his room and stashed it under the loose floorboard and on a whim he dug out a few of the seeds that were also within the bag and wrapped them carefully in his invisibility cloak.

With that, Harry tiptoed back to Dudley's room and safely tucked the bag back into the denims. He knew that if he took the bag to Aunt Petunia she would only accuse him of attempting to frame Dudley, but if she found the baggy herself it was more likely that she wouldn't connect him.

**)()(**

Things worked out better than Harry hoped. Aunt Petunia found Dudley's stash the next morning as she was washing clothes. The moment Uncle Vernon waltzed through the door, grin on his face, Aunt Petunia was there hissing the news to him. By the time Dudley got home from 'tea' at Malcolm's house Uncle Vernon had worked himself into a towering rage. Poor Dudley was stupid enough to catch sight of the plastic bag in Uncle Vernon's fat fist and immediately lay claim, "Hey, that's  _mine_!"

It went without saying that Dudley's summer was a goner. He quickly found himself grounded for the first time in his life, practically confined to his room except for meals. Without Dudley to corral them the gang fell apart, though they certainly tried for a few days without Dudley—until the little Evans boy managed to get in a few good kicks when they tried bullying him. It spread like wildfire through the neighborhood that Dudley's gang was no more.

It was a quite, peaceful summer.

It was also the summer that Harry learned the joys of recreational drugs.

**)()(**

Harry grabbed the old metal cigarette case he'd managed to find stashed in a drawer and stuffed it into his back pocket, pulling at the massive hand-me-down shirt so that it covered any lumps in his pants.

Dudley's door was open, in an effort to prevent his escape or any drug use, and the boy lifted his head to glare at Harry as he passed. Harry was kind enough to give a smirk and a cheeky wave.

He made it out of the house easily enough and was slightly surprised to find the streets crowded with children walking, laying around gossiping, or playing games in the street. Harry didn't know there were this many children in or around Privet Drive, but without Dudley and his gang to send them running for their house in fright they descended in droves. Harry got more than a few wary looks, but he ignored them easily enough.

It was a swift walk to the local park and another few minutes of navigating the woods behind it that he found a spot where the voices of happy children died down to nothing and he was alone in the silence of nature.

Harry slid the cigarette case from his pocket and clicked it open. Inside was the white cigarette with the twisted and pinched ends and a long nozzled lighter that he knew Aunt Petunia used for the candles placed around the house. He hoped she would blame it on Dudley; that would make this experience all the sweeter, Harry thought with a grin.

Harry fumbled with the cigarette. How was this supposed to work? There was no filter to let him know which end was to go in his mouth and both ends look too twisted to let smoke through. On close inspection, Harry found that one end was twisted completely shut while the other was pinched flat before someone gave it one twist. He guessed this was the part that went into his mouth but the twist wouldn't let the smoke through so he carefully untwisted the end, making sure the keep the crinkled paper pinched between his thumb and index finger.

He placed the pinched paper in his mouth and raised the lighter, pushing the child lock with his thumb and pulling with his finger; the lighter gave a snap and flame leapt out of the nozzle. Harry raised the flame to the twisted end of the cigarette and sucked at the paper in his mouth. The tip grew hot and red and he let the lighter fall, flame extinguishing.

Harry knew enough to puff hurriedly to make sure the tip lit properly, and finally musky smoke curled from the tip and around his nose; it was ready. He took an experimental puff, sucking the smoke into his lungs. It burned his throat and ached in his lungs and Harry coughed up the smoke, choking even more as smoke came out his nose. His eyes stung and his throat was sore and he felt vaguely lightheaded. He wasn't sure if that was from the weed or from lack of air, but his coughing stopped. His throat still stung but, he was ready to give it another try. It was supposed to be great, right?

Harry took an even smaller pull and managed to hold it without sending himself into another coughing fit. His head was definitely feeling light and his arms and legs were a bit numb. He blinked lazily and took another drag, this one deeper and longer. This wasn't so bad once you stopped coughing. The forest around him was both overly bright and exceeding dull. Harry also noticed in an absentminded sort of way that his eyes were drooping and half-lidded. He was more relaxed than he could ever remember being.

Harry struggled to raise his heavy limb for one more puff, noticing that he hadn't really made much progress on smoking it all. He decided with a firm nod of his head and a slight giggle that he would save it for later, stubbing it out on the smooth bark of the tree he was leaning (more collapsed at this point) against. He carefully tucked it into the cigarette case and placed it back into his pocket for safe keeping.

He relaxed against the tree and let his mind wander. He could think about anything like this and not a twinge of guilt or anger or regret rose within him. Harry relaxed even further and for a moment thought he might be dreaming as he fell and fell and fell. The forest swirled around him, fading in and out, before he dropped into colors.

There was a mass of color before him, like a ball of twine that had been added one oddly colored scrap at a time. Those threads spread out around him going in every direction. Harry's intoxicated mind found nothing wrong with this situation and Harry found himself moving forward, fingers reaching out to grasp that ball; except his fingers swept through the ball sending wisps of color shooting in a variety of directions. Some of those wisps curled around his hand like a snake, sliding sinuously up his arm. There was a curious air about the wisp before it dissolved.

Harry found himself ejected from this peaceful place, forced back into the waking world. The world was bright around him and he felt filled to the brim like an overfull cup. There was a colorful aura rising off of him and it took his fogged mind a moment to connect the colors to those of the wisp. This feeling needed out, needed to go somewhere, and he pushed, pushed with his fogged mind, tensing his body against the feeling and there was an explosion of color. Rocks were blasted from the path before him, some rising to hover in the air, blades of grass ruffled and grew.

Wandless magic or just an accident?

**)()(**

Harry found out a week later, just a few days before he was to make his way to King's Cross and board the Hogwarts Express. It wasn't an accident. It also wasn't completely controllable. Once the floating heaviness of the weed wore off, Harry's coherent mind supplied that to fully control the magic you must need all faculties. The problem with this theory was that it was un-testable. Harry tried for days to access his magic, to drop into that colorful place again while not high off his rocker, but that proved to be impossible. To access his magical core he needed to be high, but to fully control the outcome of said magic he needed to not be high.

It was a hard choice: be high and have magical outbursts that he could only slightly influence or not be high and need his wand. With his wand he would be able to perform great feats of magic, perfectly controllable feats of magic. Feats of magic that he would be expelled for if he attempted them during the summer. But no magical warnings had flown in by owl when he performed his nigh uncontrollable feats of wandless magic.

Who was he kidding? It wasn't a hard choice at all.

The Harry that boarded the train to Hogwarts was only slightly less high than his first time being high. He also carried a spiky leafed potted plant under each arm. He was sure he could find some way to pass it off as Herbology extra credit.

**)()(**

Neville was the first to recognize the potted plant for what it was. The boy had shakily threatened to go to McGonagall until Harry showed him what he could do with his magic while high. Harry enticed Neville with his hopes and dreams of being a powerful wizard—or at least on who didn't stutter and could perform a stunner.

It was a surprise to them both when Neville's first magical outburst was nearly as powerful as Harry's first. After that, Neville spent most of his time floating through the clouds. The teachers were stunned when he performed near par class for class with Hermione. Neville would live the rest of his life in this state and be recognized as one of the greatest wizards of his age.

It was Neville who, after hearing Harry's story of finding Dudley's stash, brought the idea of selling the dried leaves to their fellow classmates. Harry was reluctant to part with any bit of his plants. He worked hard to grow those. Luckily, Neville wasn't considered a genius in Herbology for nothing. He took the rest of the seeds Harry managed to snitch from Dudley's baggy and also harvested multiple seeds from Harry's plants. The pudgy boy came back within days carrying two fully grown pot plants while multiple planters floated behind him. The Gryffindor fifth year dorm was starting to look like a greenhouse and the other boys were beginning to ask questions given Harry's interest in what they considered Neville's pet project.

It was how they ended up in this situation. Dean, Seamus, and Ron corned Harry a few weeks before Yule break, forcing him onto his bed as they towered around before him.

"Alright," Ron started, exchanging glances with the other two. It seemed now that they had him where they wanted him they weren't sure how to proceed. "You've been spending a lot of time with Neville," Ron said and Harry, who knew Ron so well, could hear the hurt in his voice.

"You've been different, mate." That was Dean, concern clouding his face. "You're always in your own little world nowadays, your eyes are always red, and I've heard you sneaking out at night— _without Ron_ —and you always come back with as much food as you can carry. Now Neville does it, too! And it's even weirder because he's even started beating Hermione in something besides Herbology."

"We're worried," Seamus piped up.

Harry snorted out a laugh, eyebrow raising high. "Is this one of those intervention thingies? There's nothing wrong with me, guys! I'm perfect, better than ever, and I'm sure if you ask Neville he'll say the same thing." The door opened and Harry looked up to find said boy in the doorway, though he didn't look confused so he must have been listening at the crack. "What do you think, Nev? Are we ready to start branching out?"

The three boys glanced warily at each other before switching their gazes between Harry and Neville.

"I think we're just about. I talked to Professor Sprout about your findings a few weeks ago. She says she's researched it thoroughly and she's prepared to give us a greenhouse for further production as long as she gets a cut," Neville stated with a lazy grin. It had become Neville's signature smile since he almost always had a clear, blown glass pipe (called a bowl Neville informed him) on his person so he could take a few hits between class. Neville, it seemed, performed magic better when he was out of his head and could leave all family aided insecurities behind.

Neville moved into the room under the astonished eyes of his roommates and pulled out of his trunk what looked like a large, old-fashioned smoking pipe. On closer inspection, Harry noticed the mouth piece was longer and thicker and the bowl was a dragon's large open mouth. That mouth could hold enough weed to get those in the dorm high many times over. It was the type of thing you would see being passed around the hottest parties. It was also something to look into selling when they went public.

"Sit down, guys," Harry said, motioning to his bed. "Lock the door, Nev." Harry moved from his position, urging the others to sit as he moved to open the windows. "This isn't the most ideal place, but we can work with it."

Moments later he was seated on the bed packing the dragon's mouth with dried leaves from his precious plants—not enough to fill the mouth though, no use wasting them after all. His intervention group watched with confusion, though Dean was showing some comprehension having been raised by his Muggle mother with no Wizarding influences.

"I don't think this is a good idea, Harry," Dean pleaded.

"It's a wonderful idea and you'll see as soon as you try some."

"What? What's going on? Try some of what? Harry?" Ron yelled.

Harry didn't answer as he placed the pipe in his mouth, gratefully leaning forward for the brightened tip of Neville's wand. The wand tip touched the dried leaves and glowed bright, smoke curling upwards before the leaves caught and shone like coals as Harry puffed. Smoke hovered thickly in the room before it made its way lazily from the room and out the opened windows.

Harry took a deep hit from the pipe, pulling the smoke into his lungs and held it in as his chest ached and convulsed with the need to expel it. Finally, Harry gave into that need and let it out slowly. It would take longer to truly affect him but the lack of air made him lightheaded and gave him the feeling that it was working as he passed the pipe to Neville.

The pudgy boy gave no thought to taking a deep pull. He held it for a moment before taking another, shorter, pull. Neville really was a god when it came to smoking weed. It was like the drug patched his broken magic, so said magic sucked it up like a sponge.

The other boys watched Neville in a type of fascinated horror before the fascination vanished as the pipe was passed off to Ron. The redhead held the pipe warily between thumb and forefinger with a lost look on his face.

"Go on, Ron." Harry gave an encouraging nod. "Just a small puff or you'll choke," the boy warned. Best to warn them else they be put off the entire experience.

"But—," Ron started, eyes sliding to Neville before finding Harry again.

"Practice, but this is your first time. You'll not be used to it; Merlin, I spent almost five minutes coughing up a lung my first time and my chest was sore for the rest of the day—though Nev's just a monster," Harry laughed.

A bitter grin twisted Neville's lips. "Uncle Algie used to smoke this horrid pipe. He took it everywhere with him, and the only time it wasn't lit was when he was packing it. He trailed this bloody nasty scent wherever he went; it was usually wherever I was at, because he was always trying to scare the magic out of me. If you walked around in a cloud of that awful stuff you'd get used to it right quick. This stuff is Merlin blessed compared to Uncle Algie's stuff."

And so it went, passing the pipe around; each boy taking a hit with much encouragement from the others with much laughing and coughing. The room (now slightly more messy from magical outbursts) grew hazy with smoke even with the windows opened and the boys sprawled over the bed, hanging off in places where there was no more room.

"This is bloody brilliant," Ron called. His voice was higher and louder to compensate for the heartbeat pounding in his ears. There was a murmur of assent before Harry rolled off the bed. "Where you going, mate?"

"Hungry," was Harry's short reply but the others scrambled up as well as thoughts of all the sweets they could beg off the house-elves came to mind. Harry's mouth was dry but he dredged up enough spit to drool at the thought of some treacle tart. Mmm, maybe he could get the elves to whip up some treacle crisps. Was there such a thing? Harry gave a shrug as he bounded down the stairs; it didn't really matter as the elves could whip up anything.

**)()(**

That was how the Hogwarts craze began; with one boy who became two and then five. It spread through the school quickly after that. The Gryffindors were the first to convert. Oddly … or maybe not so oddly, it was with Hermione in the lead after Ron, Dean, and Seamus began to overtake her in classes. She cornered Harry one day and demanded to know what potion the boys were taking. Was it an intelligence booster or a magic releaser? What were they using?

Introducing Hermione to the joys of marijuana was like pulling teeth. It took much bargaining, pleading, and much manipulation, but it would become one of Harry's favorite memories. A well loved memory that he would look back on often—but never for long with the newer, freer Hermione plopping herself into his lap as she wheedled samples of Neville's improved pot plants out of him.

Hermione rose far above her classmates with the added stimulant of marijuana backing her magic and she was perfectly content once more. The only one who could give her a run for her money anymore was Draco Malfoy.

With the loosened inhibitions the boy turned into a tried and true hippie, paving the way for his fellow Slytherins. Last Harry heard, Draco had fled the country to escape the uncool practices of the Death Eaters. It was weird not to have a fourth table at Hogwarts, but with the Slytherins following their leader there was just no need for one. According to Neville (who was sending bundles of weed to them), Draco had opened a temple where they smoked pot all day; made music; and prayed for peace, love, and happiness.

It wasn't long before Harry's simple idea took over the magical world. After Hogwarts, Harry and his friends set out to supply the people. Harry become little more than a figurehead, something he was not displeased with as it gave him time to relax with his comforts. Hermione was the voice of his operation, Ron his bodyguard as there were still those nonbelievers, and Neville (with the help of Professor Sprout) worked the greenhouses and discovered more potent plants.

Life was good. And to think, it all began with a little Herbology extra credit.

**End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rule 11: Growing marijuana and/or hallucinogenic mushrooms does NOT count as Herbology extra credit.


	12. Rule 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, who recognizes the title? No Google searching!

**Itchy and Scratchy**

Harry gazed from the window high up the stone wall of Hogwarts. It was Yule break and he was stuck at Hogwarts alone; Ron and Hermione both having gone on vacation with their families. He couldn't begrudge them that. It wasn't so bad here as the Headmaster allowed Sirius to come and go as he pleased.

Except tonight was the night of the full moon and Sirius was on his way to the Whomping Willow to be with Remus as the man was forced to change. Harry felt a twinge of pity; it was Christmas eve and Remus was just moments away from a gruesome and horrifyingly painful transformation.

The sun sank below the trees and the moon shown down brightly. Harry imagined he could hear the screams and cries from his high up tower before they changed to terrifying howls and whines. That was silly, of course; he was much too far away from the Willow to be able to hear anything that might be happening within.

The tree stood silent and still, branches not even budging as the wind whispered around it. The tiny door hidden on the trunk snapped open and a large black dog pulled itself through. It glanced up, solemn gaze finding Harry's window with no trouble and the shaggy tail swished through the air and the mouth opened in a tongue lolling grin before it turned back to the tree.

Another shape was pulling itself through the door. This one even more massive than the large dog and it seemed to be having trouble getting the muscular shoulders out. The head, while having all the ear marks of a wolf, had a human quality about it that was both terrifying and supremely sad. Except, that it really wasn't sad because the head was now swaying from side to side, snapping at the air as it tried to pull itself free.

Finally, with the help of Padfoot, the wolf tumbled free. Harry had to stifle a giggle, knowing the wolf and dog would hear, as the wolf landed with legs spread over his dog companion. The look on that lupine face was pure befuddlement.

With great care the two animals untangled themselves and the dog bounded towards the forest, turning around every few steps to run circles around the wolf. The wolf stopped every few steps, not because of the dog running around it, but to use one long paw to scratch at various places on its body. A few places were unreachable by paw and the body had to be contorted into obscene shapes so the wolf would chomp with sharp teeth at bits of flesh.

Harry raised an eyebrow. Was that how Lupin got all those scars? The green-eyed boy snorted as he remembered the stories Sirius told; stories of how with no one for Moony to bite, the wolf would turn on itself. Harry shook his head; Sirius was either very dim or a great, fat liar! Lupin, or rather Moony, had  _fleas_!

It was perfect. Harry had agonized over what to get Lupin for Yule, finally settling on a silly book that he knew the man was likely never to read.

With this thought in mind, Harry hurried from the room. He had to get to Dumbledore and then to Diagon Alley before the shops closed. They would only be open for another hour to give last minute shoppers a chance to check everyone off their lists.

Sadly, the shops in Diagon Alley had not what he was looking for. Though Harry shouldn't be so surprised; if they had what he wanted Remus wouldn't need it as a present, would he?

It took a short trip into the Muggle world, but Harry returned to the castle victorious.

**)()(**

Harry sat contentedly before the fire. The feast had been wonderful, the elves overdoing it a bit with the food (seeing as there was only the staff and Sirius, Remus, and Harry to feed). It had been perfect in Harry's opinion; the food was wonderful and the company like a true family Christmas.

Now, here he was settled before the fire in the common room of Sirius and Remus's rooms. There was a much smaller version of the Great Hall trees in the corner with presents piled beneath. Harry's presents from Ron, the Weasley family, and Hermione were there along with those from Sirius and Remus. Harry's presents to the two men were there as well.

Sirius was bouncing around the tree, looking much like his animagus form. "Can we open them now? Can we, can we, can we?"

Remus sighed from his place on the couch. It was the sigh of a man who had put up with this attitude for years, trying all the while to control it, but had finally given in, in defeat. "How 'bout it, Harry? Are you ready for presents?"

Harry covered a smile, forcing his forehead to wrinkle. "I don't know. I'm pretty full and this chair is  _really_  comfy. I don't think I can move."

Harry didn't get to go on as a black bullet of fur launched itself at him. Harry tumbled from his chair, scrambling at the floor for purchase as teeth latched onto his pants and began pulling him toward the tree in the corner. "Alright, alright, we'll open presents!" Harry laughed.

It didn't take long to get the presents passed out. Harry soon found himself dressed in the usual Weasley jumper with a grin on his face. A book on Native American shaman was settled beside him (from Hermione, of course, who was on vacation in America with her parents), but it actually looked interesting. Ron's package had been oddly shaped, but it all made sense once Harry opened it and found a tiny glass encased (or was that some type of crystal?) shiny shelled beetle that gleamed hypnotizingly in the firelight. The letter said it was an Egyptian scarab beetle. It was a magical type that was used in horrific punishments for the worst offenders. The beetles would eat anything put before them, so they were encased with the victim. Over the span of weeks or months, depending on how many beetles were used, they would consume the transgressor alive—clothes, jewelry, flesh and bones. Harry caressed the case with a boyish grin, thumb sliding over the smooth glass surface. So cool!

An advanced defense book joined Hermione's book beside Harry from Remus and a mirror from Sirius. According to the animagus, the mirror was Harry's father's—something they used during detentions to communicate. It was something Harry would treasure not just for having been his father's, but because now he would be able to speak to Sirius anytime he wanted, for Sirius still held the other half.

Finally, it came time for the older men to open their presents from Harry. Sirius was currently doggie shaped in an effort to hide his tears. The man had been touched to find a stack of carefully framed photos; one for each of the true Marauders —himself, Remus, James, and Lily, complete with a group shot taken during an Order meeting while Lily was pregnant. Harry could just see the photos hung reverently on the walls of Grimmauld Place, the group shot surrounded by the individual shots. It was all thanks to Dumbledore; Harry really owed the wacky old wizard for tracking them all down.

Last came Remus, who was opening his present at that very moment. A perplexed look crossed his face as he turned the box around and around between his hands. The box showed a picture of a St. Bernard standing beside a large photo of a white collar; the words 'Flea and Tick Collar for large dogs' emblazoned above them. "Harry?"

Harry crossed his arms around his knees as he nibbled his lip. "I was watching you two last night. Remus," Harry paused, unsure how to continue before it just burst out, "you have  _fleas_."

"I— _what_?" Remus managed while looking utterly confused.

"Fleas. You know, those tiny buggy things that crawl and bite and make you itch? Moony has fleas," Harry explained slowly. Did the wizards not know what fleas were? Did they think because they had magic that their pets … or their werewolves—Merlin, maybe even their animagus forms—were safe? And Voldemort wanted people this dim to rule over the Muggles? "I also picked up another collar for Padfoot. No use killing the ones on you if they're just going to move onto him until the collar stops working. I have some flea powder that you can sprinkle around the Shrieking Shack and some shampoo I want you to use on the nights leading up to the full moon. Think of it like your Wolfsbane, a necessary evil."

"Fleas?" Lupin asked once more, still managing to look completely poleaxed, head cocked to the side like an adorably confused dog.

Harry sighed. This was going to be a long night, and Padfoot certainly wasn't helping snickering like that.

**End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rule 12: I will NOT give Lupin a flea collar.


	13. Rule 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Timeline: This one is a bit of a continuance on the last. I'm not sure if I gave a year in the last one, (here's hoping I didn't) but I've made this during fourth year. There is no DADA curse, Triwizard Tournament or anything like that. Just a simple year.
> 
> There's no death, no matter what you think the title might tell you. XD

**Chocolate Kills**

Harry Potter grinned in satisfaction as the light scent of coconut wafted in Professor Lupin's wake. It was only a week after Christmas and the presents that brought to light Lupin's … flea problem. Harry was pleased to see the man looking much better, even if he smelled like a tropical cabana boy.

Sadly, the same could not be said for Padfoot. The poor dog was seen more often than not either seated on his rump with a back paw scratching furiously at neck and ears or gnawing at various bits of his body with sharp teeth bared. Harry felt near to no pity, having warned Sirius that the fleas would move from Lupin to Padfoot if preventative measures were not taken. If the old dog wouldn't listen it was his own fault if he scratched himself raw.

Now, there was only one thing left to do.

Harry read through the assigned passage in his Defense book quickly before scooting a slimmer book on top. He sneaked a glance a Lupin. Good, as long as he drew no attention to himself he could continue where he left off.

Harry could nearly quote this specific chapter of the book by heart, but it was worth one last look before he followed through with his plan. Still, he felt a twinge of guilt before another glance at a Lupin bolstered his confidence.  _It was for the man's own good_ , Harry thought with a firm nod.

His mind worked over the chapter. The title was bold and the text large.

**Dogs and Chocolate: A Toxic Combination**

Harry knew the chapter continued on with phrases like, ' _chocolate can sicken and even kill dogs_ ', ' _dogs metabolize theobromine from chocolate much more slowly_ ', and ' _the more theobromine a cocoa product contains, the more poisonous it is to your dog: dark chocolate and baker's chocolate being the riskiest_ '.

A little research on Harry's part met with the hypothesis that chocolate was just a lethal to wolves as it was to dogs, though no one had attempted feeding chocolate to a wolf.

This information brought to mind all the times he witnessed Lupin eating chocolate. The man's favorite was the Honeydukes specialty. It was a thick slab of chocolate made from flat blocks in a variety of types: white, milk, dark, sweet dark, semi-sweet, and bittersweet. The slab was so large and thick that it needed to be sliced like bread to be eaten. It was banned at Hogwarts due to its ability to rot teeth and rile up unsuspecting third years. There was a black market trade on it though, because the forbidden quality made the chocolate that much sweeter …

… not that Harry would know, of course! He glanced around the room with wary eyes as though everyone knew his deepest thoughts. Finding no one watching him, Harry returned to the book and his thoughts on dogs and chocolate. Sirius wasn't a fan of chocolate, evil man that he was, so there was no need to worry about him. It was Lupin that was the big worry; that man always had his pockets filled to bursting with the tempting treats. There were chocolate bars, truffles, the Wizarding equivalent of Oreos, candy bars, and chocolate frogs. Harry wiped his mouth, grimacing at the wetness on his fingers.

Right, back on track. Chocolate bad. At least for dogs and wolves, not sweet little fourth years. Thankfully, before he could continue his thoughts the bell rang through the castle to signal the end of classes. Professor Lupin was quick to dismiss them and Harry saw his fingers detour to his overfull pocket as his eyes strayed to the tea set on his desk.

Luckily for Harry, this was his last class for the day, and he could stay behind. He urged his friends to go on ahead without him and made his way to Lupin's desk.

"Harry? What do you need?" Lupin asked, though again, Harry saw his eyes give longing looks to his tea set.

"I picked up some things for you at the last Hogsmeade visit."  _Not really, but he doesn't need to know that,_  Harry thought. The boy reached into his bag and pulled out a pack of chocolate chip cookies. Another delve into the bag brought out chocolate biscuits with cream filling and gold wrapped truffles and Harry piled them on the Professor's desk as well. Harry also pulled out a container of what looked like chocolate brownies and paw shaped chocolate on a stick which Harry thought was an adorable gift for a werewolf, though was having second thoughts at the grimacing looks Lupin was giving them.

Harry was beginning to think this plan was set to be a failure. He gave a disappointed sigh, thoughts already working towards a new plan before a hand, quick as lightening, snatched up the cream filled biscuits.

"You didn't have to do this, Harry," Remus said in a completely unconvincing tone, already flicking his wand to produce steam from the tea pot. His cup was quickly filled with hot tea and the bag holding the biscuits torn open—completely disregarding the plastic zipper at the top.

"It was no problem, Professor," Harry said bemusedly. He watched Lupin dunk the cookie into his tea and then shove it unceremoniously into his mouth.

"Mmm, this is really good. Where did you say you got this? It doesn't taste like Honeydukes." Had no one ever taught this man not to talk with his mouth full? He vaguely resembled a chipmunk at this point, cheeks so packed full of chocolate biscuits they bulged obscenely.

Harry avoided looking at Lupin, eyes gazing down at the quickly disappearing biscuits. "Is it better?" Harry asked in an faux uncertain tone. "I found this little shop in one of the back alleys. It was what they claimed on their sign: Better than Honeydukes," Harry lied. It wasn't like Lupin  _needed_ to know he was eating carob dog biscuits. There was nothing in them that a person couldn't eat; Harry had checked them quite thoroughly!

"I-I don't know," Lupin trailed off. Shaking fingers grabbed up one of the truffles. "I'll need to taste a bit more to be sure."

"I can pick you up some more next weekend. This was just a sample after all. I told the nice little, old lady behind the counter of your love of Honeydukes and she gave me all this free in an effort to convert you." Another lie, but what were a few white lies to keep Lupin, and his wolf, safe? This was the man who gorged himself every day (morning, noon, and night) before the full moon because he claimed the chocolate relaxed him. There was no way for his stomach to empty before it became the wolf's stomach. That much chocolate was sure to be doing some damage, Harry justified.

"Yes, yes, that would be nice," Lupin replied absently, eyes already focused on the chocolate chip cookies. "You should head back to Gryffindor, Harry. I'm sure your friends will be worrying soon."

"Of course, Professor, enjoy your evening."

Now, Harry just had to find some time to make his way into the Muggle world to pick up some more dog biscuits … and some more containers. The jig would surely be up if he gave them to the Professor packaged as they were ... with pretty little dogs on the covers.

**End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rule 13: Nor will I leave dog biscuits on his desk.
> 
> I started writing this with Harry putting the biscuits on Lupin's desk as a joke or a prank or even following this story line except with Lupin having no idea they treats are from Harry, but I thought a scene where Remus eats and enjoys them (with Harry's inner commentary) was too good to pass up.


End file.
